The Jedi Patient
by GreenSage
Summary: Warning: SLASH! This is my response to the first-line challenge from Emu. Qui-Gon’s been injured, and he is VERY cranky. Obi-Wan is master-sitting. Tempers get frayed and eyes get opened. COMPLETE


Title: The Jedi Patient  
Author: Sage (greensage2@yahoo.com)  
Category: Humor/Parody, Pre-Slash  
Rating: R  
Warnings: None beyond the usual m/m relationship warning  
Notes: Emu's challenge spawned a plot bunny that bit HARD. This is the result. Not beta'd - all mistakes are mine. Enjoy!  
Feedback: Oh please, oh please!   
Disclaimers: Not mine. No money. All hail the mighty Lucas.   
  
Bond-speak is represented as follows: //...//  
  
  
"Master, WILL you behave yourself!" Obi-Wan hissed. At the end of his rope, he wondered distractedly why no one ever told the Initiates how difficult it was to baby-sit a Master. Especially rangy, muscular, bloody LARGE Masters who had decided that bed rest was for the birds. They'd all flock to the AgriCorps if they knew.  
  
Obi-Wan determinedly attacked his tall master yet again and attempted to wrestle him back into bed. Even injured, Qui-Gon Jinn was as solid as your average mountain and just as impossible to move.  
  
"Padawan, I am getting up whether you like it or not. Don't forget that I'm the Master here. I feel fine, thank you very much, and...Aagh!"  
  
Unable to physically push his recalcitrant master back into bed, Obi-Wan resorted to the simple expedient of grabbing Qui-Gon's hair and pulling. Hard.  
  
"Master, the Healers said TWO days in bed. Minimum. You've still got a day and a half to go at least. Now GET back in bed, and lie still! For Force's sake, Master, even you can't expect to recover instantly from being buried under a rockslide."  
  
Qui-Gon turned a mutinous glare on his padawan.  
  
"So help me, I'll send you back, Master. I will march you down to the Healers myself and LEAVE you there, do you hear me?"  
  
Grumbling mulishly about traitorous padawans, Qui-Gon grudgingly got back into bed.  
  
Gathering his frayed nerves and praying to any deities listening for patience, Obi-Wan drew himself up and glowered sternly at his master.  
  
"Now you STAY there! I'm going to go fix some tea and a light meal for us."  
  
"Yes, *Master,*" Qui-Gon said crossly, even as his eyes lit up with a devious glint.  
  
"If you move, I'll summon Master Yoda, and he'll sit on you," Obi-Wan threatened.  
  
Qui-Gon retreated to regroup. *That* was a serious threat; his old master would likely comply, the conniving old troll.  
  
He heard his padawan banging things around in the kitchen, muttering imprecations about obstinate, thick-skulled Masters and how not one of them had a lick of common sense.  
  
Obi-Wan hastily assembled a light meal of cheese, bread, and fruit. The hapless loaf didn't defend itself against the young man's violent handling and suffered a rather serious dent in one side. Obi-Wan scowled at it and brandished a large knife. It cut rather satisfyingly through the crusty bread, and by the time he'd reduced the loaf to slices, he felt marginally ready to be civil to his master again. Teapot and tray in hand, he returned to Qui-Gon's bedroom.  
  
He tried not to laugh. Really, he did. But it was just so *hard.* Qui-Gon Jinn, one of the finest warrior diplomats the Jedi Order had ever produced, was *sulking.* He sat stiffly against the headboard of his bed, arms folded across his chest, lower lip protruding in a massively offended pout. He glared thunderously at his padawan as Obi-Wan coughed up a storm, trying to cover his laughter.  
  
"Well?" Qui-Gon demanded, silently daring the young man to comment.  
  
Obi-Wan cleared his throat. Again. "A light lunch, Master," he said mildly. "You've been in the bacta for several days, and I thought you might be hungry." He handed his master an empty mug. "Tea?"  
  
"Don't you get fresh with me, young man," Qui-Gon grumbled peevishly, even as he extended the empty cup to Obi-Wan.  
  
"No, Master," Obi-Wan said, all pretended politeness as he poured the tea.  
  
Some thirty minutes later, his cranky master fed and placated, Obi-Wan bowed respectfully and left the room with the empty tray and teapot. He stalked across the common room, swearing sulfurously under his breath. More clanging and banging around the kitchen saw his dishes washed and his temper beaten back into submission.  
  
He crossed the common room again, this time heading for his own room and his astrogeography assignment. An ominous rustling issued from his master's room.  
  
'Force save me from an unmanageable Master!' Obi-Wan implored silently.  
  
//Don't even think about it,// he sent to Qui-Gon.  
  
The only response from Qui-Gon was a pulse of obedience and serenity. Too serene. It was the kind of serene that said 'go away and ignore me because I'm not worthy of notice.' Classic misdirection. Stifling a groan, Obi-Wan turned around and crept silently to the door of his master's room, projecting a sense of notpayingattention along the training bond.  
  
He suddenly burst through the door and stood, hands on lean hips, frowning at his master. His duplicitous, *guilty* master who he'd just caught in the act of sneaking out of bed. The very same master who hadn't been paying close enough attention to his padawan and was now sitting on the floor because he'd been startled into losing his balance.  
  
At this point, Qui-Gon recalled two very simple rules. Number one, don't get caught. Number two, if you do get caught, lie through your teeth.  
  
"Padawan, how am I supposed to recover if you insist on startling me into falling out of bed?" His tone was reasonable, polite even.  
  
Obi-Wan was patently unconvinced. "Back. In. Bed. NOW." Suiting actions to words, he grabbed his master's elbow, tugged him to his feet, and pushed him back into bed.  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head, disgusted. "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I." It wasn't a question, not really. He already knew the answer. "Alright, Master, stay put for a moment, and I'll be right back."  
  
Grumbling again about idiotic Jedi Masters who think they're unbreakable and resisting the urge to tear out his braid, Obi-Wan stormed out into the common room, sweeping up datapads as he went. He took a small detour into his own room and retrieved his assignments. He then strode back to his master's room and dumped most of the lightslates into Qui-Gon's lap.   
  
"Unfinished Council reports, intelligence for our next mission, and your messages," Obi-Wan said without preamble. "Knock yourself out," he couldn't resist adding snidely. So there. Ha! He folded his legs and sank to the floor, settling in to do his assignments with his master in full view.  
  
With a final black look at his padawan, Qui-Gon reluctantly applied himself to his paperwork. He plowed through the Council reports, answered all his mail, and then got started reading about S'karan IV. They were to ship out in a week, pending Qui-Gon's recovery, and mediate some trade talks between the S'karans and two neighboring systems. He read, and read, and...  
  
Obi-Wan smirked as he watched his master drop off to sleep. Finally. Still feeling less than clean from his extended vigil at the Healers', Obi-Wan decided to take a shower while his master slept. He got quietly to his feet and left the room, bound for the 'fresher.  
  
He was in the midst of enjoying a blissfully hot, real water shower when a niggling sense of unease, a flicker in the Force, alerted him. Obi-Wan stretched his awareness toward his master's room. Sure enough, Qui-Gon was attempting to get himself out of bed. Again.  
  
Swearing creatively in multiple languages, Obi-Wan wrapped a towel around his hips and stormed, dripping, back to his master's room.  
  
In the process of pulling off the blankets, Qui-Gon stopped. And stared. He blinked owlishly at the apparition of wet, nearly naked perfection in front of him and wondered when his lanky, adolescent padawan had metamorphosed into this beautiful man.  
  
Obi-Wan watched his master collapse weakly against the headboard, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Somewhere in the midst of his towering fury, he cataloged the look of complete surprise in his master's eyes. Beautiful indigo eyes that he'd loved forever, but was now none too pleased with.  
  
"Master, I don't suppose you'd be willing to stay in bed long enough for me to finish my shower, would you?" Obi-Wan pleaded resignedly.  
  
Qui-Gon didn't speak, couldn't trust himself to open his mouth and spit out a coherent thought. So he nodded.  
  
Obi-Wan's brows shot towards his hairline, then furrowed. "You're kidding. No tricks?"  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head mutely.  
  
Tossing a final, suspicious glance over his shoulder, Obi-Wan left the room and headed back to his interrupted shower, puzzled. What the heck had just happened, and who had replaced his master with this well-behaved stranger?  
  
Qui-Gon followed his apprentice's loose-limbed saunter with his eyes, stopping only when the young man disappeared into the 'fresher. The breath left his body in a great whoosh. Wow. He glared fiercely at the irrepressible bulge the sheets were currently hiding, silently willing it to go away. He couldn't really do anything constructive about it in his condition, anyway. It stubbornly refused. Qui-Gon felt his cheeks color. He hadn't been this aroused in *years,* and here he was, lusting after his padawan and confined to bed rest. He'd had his doubts, but this confirmed it. The Force definitely had a sense of humor.  
  
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan was back in the shower, washing absently and thinking hard. His ornery master had suddenly become putty in his hands, and he was at a complete loss as to why. But Obi-Wan was nobody's fool, and the light eventually dawned. A devilish grin spread over his face. Well, if he'd known it would be that easy...  
  
Obi-Wan got out of the shower and pulled on his oldest pair of sleep pants, the ones that barely stayed on his hips and had been washed so many times that the fabric was almost translucent. He consciously turned ON the charm and cranked his sensuality meter up high. He snagged a pillow and blanket from his own bed and then *prowled* back into Qui-Gon's room.  
  
Qui-Gon swallowed hard as Obi-Wan regarded him with a half-lidded, sultry gaze.  
  
"Sure you don't mind if I catch a quick nap in here, do you Master?" he asked artlessly. "I need to rest, but you shouldn't be alone, just in case you need anything."  
  
Still silent, Qui-Gon shook his head, then nodded, then gestured vaguely at the floor.  
  
Obi-Wan spread out his blanket and tossed his pillow onto one end of it. He sprawled elegantly on his makeshift pallet.  
  
Qui-Gon's mouth went dry, and he had to remind himself not to stare at the barely hidden shadowy area beneath the thin pants that marked Obi-Wan's groin. Obi-Wan shifted and stretched, muscles flexing and rippling. It was too much.  
  
Qui-Gon cleared his throat, intending to admonish his student, but what came out instead was entirely different. "Rest well, Padawan," he growled. "You'll need it."  
  
Obi-Wan met his master's beautiful blue eyes and read the promise that glittered darkly there. The young man's eyes turned stormy, and he grinned slightly.  
  
Oh, yes. Oh *my,* yes. Bed rest definitely had its advantages.  
  
Fin 


End file.
